


Proposition

by Dragonsigma



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Cala is a dirty-minded virgin, Experienced Beshelar, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:37:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9422777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonsigma/pseuds/Dragonsigma
Summary: Cala was looking him over with a searching eye, as if evaluating his offer. And what he would receive if he agreed. It was that look that emboldened Beshelar to say, “It is only that I have seen thee these months and wish to know thee better."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [farevenasdecidedtouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/farevenasdecidedtouse/gifts).



> Well, here it is, the long-promised Cala/Beshelar sex scene. This started out as a fill for the kinkmeme prompt "Beshelar takes the initiative" but didn't quite include all the things suggested there.

To read a man at a glance, to watch him pass and see in his stride and face and dress his past, his intent, his state of mind, that was an ability valued in a guardsman almost to the exclusion of all others, and ranked alongside physical skill and depth of loyalty when the time came to assign a soldier-nohecharis to the Emperor’s side. Beshelar excelled in this ability, as in many others. And so it was an unwelcome surprise when his partner remained frustratingly opaque. Even weeks after their introduction, after entire days spent in one another’s company, he did not know what to think of Cala Athmaza.

Cala, with his kind eyes and teasing smiles, his humor and concern. His thoughtful quiet moods, his ability to draw meaning from the smallest word or the most convoluted text. Did he know what thoughts he inspired? Was he aware that his manner invited imaginings of tangled hair pulled loose from ties, of that calm voice turned to small pleading sounds, of attentive eyes glazed over with desire?

Love between men at arms featured in the most ancient of legends, and it was said that no brotherhood of men ever existed that had not borne witness to such. It was an unspoken truth that close quarters and the necessity of absolute trust inspired passions that outsiders would call obscene, should they ever know of the acts done in darkness, but it was an equal truth that the bonds of comradeship ensured that such secrets were kept.

Beshelar had taken men to his bed before, had been taken _(he thought fondly of the idolized commander who first sought favors from a handsome and promising recruit, had guided him through the ways of masculine pleasure and passion…)_ but in the Alcethmeret, far from his fellows and under the critical eye of the Court, he had not expected to readily find a discreet lover.

The order of the mazei certainly was a brotherhood, but a brotherhood so arcane and archaic that perhaps the pattern of soldiers did not hold for them. Magic was an art of the mind, not the body, and their traditions might differ.

Would Cala welcome his advances, or flee in disgust? He studied history, philosophy; surely this idea could not be new to him. Or perhaps he did know, and he had been claimed already, by a man who would not stoop to share his prize?

Some men of Beshelar’s acquaintance would not have bothered with such questions, and simply taken what they wanted. But such a thing was, in his mind, distasteful as well as cruel. He would sooner abandon the pursuit altogether than give Cala cause to cringe at the sight of him. Besides, only a fool would presume to overpower a dachenmaza. To court a man still half a stranger for intimacies he might find repulsive was to court scorn, shame, disgrace. But to _know_ would be far better than to hold unanswered desire all his days.

Alone in their shared quarters, there was privacy enough for Beshelar to shed formality and say, “Hadst thou joined the Guard instead, thou wouldst have many men competing for thy favor."

Cala snorted. “Joined the Guard, and been written off as an uncoordinated fool with more fluff in my heart than steel? No, it would not have been suitable.” He turned back to his work, a heavy book open under one hand and in the other a pen ready above a scrap of paper.

Beshelar would have counted the conversation a failure, if not for the fact that Cala had not yet lowered his pen nor his ears, only sat looking away as if weighing a response.“As for favors,” Cala said after a moment had passed, “none among the novices sought me out, except for lessons that remained only that. What could cadets want of me that they could not find elsewhere?"

 _Many things,_ Beshelar thought, _not least that thou art powerful, though thou dost not look it, and composed despite thy untidy dress and insouciant manner, and to see all that washed over with basic pleasures would be a heady sight for any man._

But unlike mazei, men in the barracks had no use for such fine talk, and so what he said was, “A man can tire of the typical stock."

“So I am to be only a diversion?” Cala’s level voice did not completely hide the sudden hurt in his eyes.

“I did not mean...” Beshelar fumbled, almost missing in his stumbling anxiety the fact that Cala had not rejected the premise of the offer. But once he noticed that, he also noticed that Cala was looking him over with a searching eye, as if evaluating his offer. And what he would receive if he agreed. It was that look that emboldened Beshelar to say, “It is only that I have seen thee these months and wish to know thee better."

Cala studied him a moment longer, and just as Beshelar began to fear he had given unpardonable offense, closed his book and set his pen aside. He stood, and approached Beshelar, determination and uncertainty in his face, ears lifted slightly in anticipation.

“I know the… _theory_ ,” he began, “but as I have said, none before ever-"

Beshelar silenced him by dint of pulling him close and kissing him. It started uncoordinated and strange, and grew rough, desperate.

“Well,” Cala said when they parted, cheeks pink and eyes bright, “Shouldst have said sooner.” He pulled off his spectacles, now knocked crooked, and slid them into a pocket of his robes. As soon as he’d done so, Beshelar was working at the fastenings of Cala’s robe.

“Wilt be so unjust? Let me see _thee_ ,” Cala pleaded, pulling away just enough to undress properly. Usually Beshelar would protest the way he threw his clothes into an untidy heap, but there was no time for that now. Cala sat naked on the edge of the bed, and Beshelar rose and stripped, as Cala watched him raptly, eagerly.

He had not truly considered this, that Cala might find him so appealing even before they had fully enjoyed each other, and the realization only added to his desire, his arousal.

His clothes ended up only slightly more neatly arranged than Cala’s, and then he forgot about that entirely as Cala leaned towards him, hunger in his eyes.

Beshelar reached up; Cala’s hair needed only the barest of encouragement to come loose from its braid and spill over his shoulders and chest.

Cala was as angular as Beshelar had expected, long and lanky in a way that made him imagine pushing Cala down into the bed, holding him there and finding the touches he could least resist, or of letting those clever fingers find his own weaknesses.

Already this was different from his previous encounters of the sort. Those had not involved nearly so much… fondness. But as he pulled Cala against him and felt his cock swell against his skin, he found he could not dislike it.

Cala reached forward to run his fingers almost reverently over Beshelar’s chest.

“The Emperor need not fear anything, with one such as thee protecting him,” Cala said, studying Beshelar’s body with that scholarly attention he had long sought to claim.

He ran his hands down Cala’s back, reached lower, squeezed. Cala rocked forward against him with a gasp.

“I cannot speak as well as thou dost...” Beshelar said. Leaving aside the fact that it was strange to be speaking at all during such a thing.

“Needst not speak at all, though I would listen if thou dost,” Cala said, leaning forward to kiss him again.

“Speakst as if thou’rt experienced in this, though saidst otherwise.”

Cala laughed against Beshelar’s neck. “Only in my thoughts, with the handsome boys who did not see me as such.”

The idea that he was the first to hold this fine creature in his arms, to feel his eager kisses and curious hands and straining cock, surged through Beshelar like strong drink, and he reached up to flip Cala onto his back. A few moments of wriggling adjustments and he sat astride his partner. He pushed forward so that their cocks brushed together; Cala made a small sound of surprise and jerked his hips up, seeking more.   

Warmth sparked through Beshelar’s groin, the longing hunger there growing greater every moment. He brought a hand between them and tightened it around them both, then released it and ran his fingers teasingly down Cala’s cock. Cala whined and threw his head back. Beshelar pinned Cala’s hips down to the bed and, increasing his ministrations only the tiniest bit, bent forward to kiss the pale throat.

“ _More_ of that,” Cala pleaded, and his cock twitched as if to accentuate his point. “I am certain-” He lost the words in a moan as Beshelar brushed the tip- “I am certain thou’rt not so gentle with thy fellow soldiers.”

The sight of him, the sounds Beshelar drew from him with each touch... it was intoxicating to know he could do this to his usually calm and quiet partner. But despite how desperately aroused Cala was, this teasing would not be enough. For either of them - Beshelar’s own growing need could not be ignored much longer.   

“I have a great deal to teach thee, maza,” he said. “But training must begin with the basics of form, of grip…” He guided Cala’s hand down. Later, they would do more, but he did not have oil to hand and Cala seemed enraptured enough already.

“Like this, as thou wouldst for thyself…”

At first uncertain, and then with more confidence as Beshelar shuddered in approval at his touch, Cala worked at him. Cala’s were far from the practiced motions Beshelar was familiar with, but they were earnest, and with a little direction, as satisfying as those others.

Muttering indistinguishable encouragements, Cala rocked against Beshelar’s thigh and cock, moved his hand to grab and caress and rub. Beshelar spared a moment to take pride in the fact that it was he and not the maza who could better keep his words about him in such a state.

But there was little time for thought now. The sensation built, and then steady pleasure overflowed into a wild rush of need and rich heat. Beneath him, Cala squirmed and came with a small cry muffled in Beshelar’s shoulder. Beshelar lasted a while longer, driving himself hard against Cala’s fingers, until he too came and collapsed trembling beside his partner.

“Thou’rt skilled in this,” Cala said at last, breathless with exertion. “I had…” he took a breath that turned into a laugh, “I had not expected it of thee.”

The praise would have had him hard again were it not so soon after. As it was, he savored the words, and smiled at the thought of all the rest he could show Cala in days to come, things far richer and stronger than even this.

They were sweaty and covered in seed and would need a great deal of washing before they were fit to do anything more than lie there, but as Cala seemed reluctant to move, Beshelar stayed beside him as Cala curled half-asleep against his side. He had not expected this intimacy to continue after they were both sated, but he found it suited him better than ever he had hoped.


End file.
